


Simpler Times

by dearest_harley



Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), MSA, Mystery Skulls, Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: F/M, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearest_harley/pseuds/dearest_harley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories from the life of Vivi, Arthur, Lewis, and Mystery, taking place before their was any death or real turmoil between the crew and everyone was just happy to play video games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Biding Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> I'll start with an apology to anyone who has been trying to keep up with my main fic.  
> I plan on starting that up again, but I've been struck with a bout of writer's block for the past few months. This short story was originally an exercise to see if I was ready to start writing again, but I liked it enough that I think I might start a lesser commitment. I won't be updating this regularly, but whenever I come up with a story idea that I don't have room for in the actual fic, I'll just dump it here for everyone's enjoyment.  
> Thank you for sticking with me so long, and I hope you like this short story!

Arthur was six when Vivi came tumbling into his life, all rough edges and flying fists.

Only a few weeks into first grade and the poor boy was already a target, the punching bag for all the fifth graders and someone who was becoming well acquainted with the toilets and lockers he was so often thrown into. He was shy, quiet, and even though he never sobbed or screamed he’d cry silently as the older kids assaulted him-the perfect pick, the small fry. Better yet, he was too afraid of the teachers to ever tattle, and he hid his bruises and bit his tongue whenever he walked into the classroom.

So Arthur spent the first few months of his school life hiding during lunch and after school, sneaking past his assaulters and sprinting home without even a thought towards the bus. He even took the blame when his uncle Lance scolded him for being so late. It wasn’t like someone so gruff and well-built would understand the woes of this scrawny kid, not in the slightest sense. But everyday before he reached the mechanic shop his guardian ran, he’d hurry through the parking lot of the broken down apartments next to the train tracks, a crumbling structure riddled with shady looking teenagers and dust. 

And everyday, he saw a flash of blue retreat from the corner most window on the third story floor as he glanced upward at the dilapidated building.

Flash forward to a Friday afternoon, mid-December with the uncharacteristic snow falling steadily in a place where ice should never touch-the small town of Tempo, Texas. In the art of evading the enemy, Arthur was second to none, and it had been a little over a week since he had been given his last swirlie. But his pursuers were nothing if not persistent. Arthur could tell by both the sickening lurch in his stomach and the bursts of restrained chatter that arose from behind him that he was no longer alone on his solitary walk home, and it was with quickening steps that he turned into the parking lot next to the old apartment buildings.

There was no other way to get home, and nobody who cared about him around to hear if he cried out.

When he felt the wide palm against his back, he was already halfway across the parking lot, the cement crumpling into wet potholes beneath his feet as their tiny puddles froze over. With the weight of the older girl forcing him to stumble forward, he slipped on the ice and onto his face, his nose hitting the cold, hard floor and going numb fast.

The world behind him fell into a flurry of laughter and snickering. He didn’t stand up right away, frozen in fear as he watched droplets of blood fall steadily onto the ground below, leaving red indents in the snow. As he did push himself onto his hands and knees, he was met with a hard kick to the side, flinging him back to the unforgiving ground.

“Where do you think you’re going, shrimp?” He recognized the voice as Hailey, his main assailant on most occasions, “How far should we let this pussy run before really giving it to him, Nix?”

He didn’t even have to look to know who she was talking to. Nicholas, just as scrawny as Arthur was but twice as tall and one hundred times angrier, “I think we’ve waited long enough as is. How long did you think you could get past us, runt? Like we wouldn’t find you?”

It was all Arthur could do to flip over onto his back, pushing himself as far away as he could with his feet. His eyes stung as tears began biting the edges of his lashes, tearing away down his face to mingle with the trail of blood that had dribbled from his nostrils to his ear when he was on his side. Even as he tried to escape, they came closer to him, eyes fixed as they stalked their prey.

“What, are you going to cry about it? I barely even hit him. Are you gonna go crying to your Mommy and Daddy?” She pouted her lips, rubbing her eyes as she mocked him. Arthur could feel the stone in his throat harden, his stomach churning with every step they took forward, “Oh, wait, he doesn’t have any!”

Nicholas looked at Hailey, his own smile wicked “I bet they killed themselves. I bet they saw how weak their son was and they shot themselves in the head. That’s what I would do, if my son was even half as pathetic as this baby.”

He wasn’t even trying to move anymore. His vision was blurry, his hands raw from pushing himself on the ice, his clothes wet and his skin red. They too stopped, looking down on him with hands in their pockets as they locked on, ready to unload all of their anger onto their tearful punching bag.

It was all Arthur could do to turn his face away, shielding his head with his hands.

Every part of his body was tense as he took the beating, his sniffles and hiccups doing nothing in his favor. Each fall of their feet onto his exposed body left him reeling, coughing, dizzy. Kicking was always the worst, and Hailey had strong legs. Why couldn’t he have stayed standing? They would have only punched him then, pushed him around a little, dug their heels into his toes. That would have been so much better than the biting bruises he felt rising on his torso.

“Hey, assholes!” 

The voice was shrill but steady, clearly young despite its loudness and the demanding presence of its tone. Even so, the feet of Arthur’s attackers kept digging into his ribs as he didn’t even make an attempt to fight back or flee. Had they not heard it, or had they merely not cared?

“I’m talking to you, shitheads!”

There was a pause, the toe of Hailey’s boot still embedded in the space below Arthur’s ribs. He heard the slight zipping of their jackets rubbing together, the tension rolling off of their bodies in enraged waves. Even with their big words, Arthur pitied whoever was speaking now. They wouldn’t be speaking for long.

Nicholas was pissed, his venomous voice shooting darts as Arthur peaked through his fingers, “I’m sorry, do you mean us?”

Arthur could barely make out the outline of a chubby little girl, her short blonde hair poorly and unevenly dyed blue to match the flowery dress she was wearing, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re gonna hafta leave it in this parking lot and walk far away, ya hear me? Get outta here, or we three will have a problem of our own.”

Nicholas looked at Hailey. This kid looked hardly older than Arthur, yet her eyes were determined and her stance ready. For a few moments, they forgot about their original target in order to approach something much more interesting, a new game that might actually give them a little thrill.

“I’ll give ya one more chance, turn back now or else you’ll really be paying for it.”

“You hear that, Nix?” Hailey taunted.

“I’m shaking in fear at the thou-”

Before Nicholas could even finish, Arthur watched as the girl burst into a sprint forward, her bare feet pounding against the ground before she bent her knees and leapt into the air. Arm outstretched as the bully scoffed, her fist met with his jaw and he fell backwards. Without hesitation she swung around and towards Hailey as the older girl backed away in shocked silence, fist bloody and clenched as the newcomer stared her down.

“I’ll give ya one more chance.”

Arthur could hardly see past Hailey now, she had nearly backed on top of him. Nicholas wasn’t unconscious, but he was touching his jaw gingerly as tears popped into his eyes and he let out a long whimper. Even so, Hailey’s demeanor steeled, and she rooted herself in place in preparation of what might come.

“I-I’m not afraid of you, kid. So you got some punches in you,” he could hear her gulp, a shiver running down her body as the younger girl approached, “well, so do I. You ain’t nothing to me.”

There was a pause. Arthur heard the cracking of knuckles in front of Hailey, and only moments after, the crash of a lifted foot into the stomach of the fifth grader who had moments earlier been wailing on him. She tried to dodge and catch the foot of the challenger in the hopes that she might upset her balance, but all she got was the wind knocked out of her. As she began to fall back, Arthur scrambled out from beneath her.

“We got a problem now, see? I didn’t want no trouble, and you had to get all sassy on me. I better not see you back here, not tomorrow or ever. Ya hear me?” Hailey was crying now, too, the tears streaming down her face as she gripped her stomach and gasped for air while nodding her head furiously, “You ain’t that tough. Just scared. Go on now, I’m tired of looking at ya.”

Hailey and Nicholas both scrambled to their feet, hurrying as quickly as they could out of the parking lot without falling on their butts. The girl watched them until they passed over the yellow curb, eyes unblinking as she protected her territory and the poor boy within it. Through it all, Arthur could only think of how small he must look, nestled in the snow.

She turned then, eyes fixed on him and no longer hard or angry, just curious. Her dress was old and worn, something she had clearly grown out of and refused to get rid of, and her bare feet were bright red against all the cold that surrounded her. All of her skin, in fact, was red as the snow fell and melted, yet she didn’t seem phased by the cold. Every bit of her attention was on him, and that was not something Arthur liked.

“Hey kid, what did ya do to piss them off so bad?”

The girl moved towards him slightly, turning only her body and causing him to flinch. He didn’t speak, didn’t even really look her in the eye as she tilted her head to the side and scratched her arm absentmindedly.

“I mean, ya seem inconspicuous enough, ya know? Real quiet. Did they hurt ya too bad?”

He gulped, shaking his head just slightly. With a sigh, she walked towards him a little more, one hand outstretched as she rested the other on her knee in an attempt to help him move.

“Not much of a talker, eh?” 

His eyes glanced down at her hand, and then back up at her face. She attempted a toothy grin, some of her teeth missing beside her incisors, but when he didn’t respond she knit up her eyebrows with a little gesture of the hands. Clearly, she was trying her best to be friendly, even if Arthur wasn’t very receptive.

“Come on, I ain’t that bad. Forget about that whole beatin’ them up, I don’t bite.” 

She gestured again, and for some reason, Arthur grabbed her hand and let her help him up.

He was a little wobbly, his legs nearly giving out beneath him as he began to feel every sore spot on his body. Without letting go of her hand, he cringed and lifted a finger to poke painfully at his injuries. 

This girl clearly didn’t have boundaries, and without thought she lifted up his shirt to peak at his belly and survey the damage. Immediately, a mosaic of old yellow bruises and the new, bright red discolorations from the recent beating jumped out at her, but most concerning of all was a bright swelling of freely flowing blood. Arthur fought her, pushing down his shirt as best he could, but the wound had already been seen.

“Oh man, that’s gotta sting like a bitch. Look, I know I’m pretty shady and all, but the least I can do is give you a band-aid or somethin’,” She looked back up at his face, using the back of her hand to wipe at the mess of snow and blood he had become, “and maybe like, a towel?”

He looked down and away, blushing brightly as he kept his silence. She turned away from him, her finger pointing up at the corner apartment on the third floor, “I only live up there, it ain’t too far and I can have you on your way in a few minutes, tops. Maybe getcha a drink or two? It ain’t some pretty mansion but it’s somethin’.”

She gave a little tug on his hand, and he surprised himself by taking a step forward as she lead him on, her eyes bouncing back towards him as she walked through the parking lot and towards the stairs that would carry them to her home. Somehow, he trusted her, this nameless, rough-and-tumble missile sent from above to protect him from the unbeatable forces of evil that had been out to get him for so long. As they trekked further and further into the snow, he began to feel a warmth spread from his cheeks and into the tips of his toes. 

He was smiling by the time she spoke back at him.

“I’m Vivienne, by the way. But you just call me Vivi.”


	2. Flashes of Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Chapter 1, wherein Vivi discovers whiskey is not a viable replacement to painkillers for her new six year old friend.

The stairway she lead him up was dark, dusty, and crumbling beneath their feet and to the ground far below as though it were dry and brittle clay. Small beams of sunlight, diluted by wandering wisps of stone dust and mold, cut through cracks and holes in the walls in an attempt to fend off some of the shade that had surrounded them but fell short by a long shot, giving life to the weeds that grew in the cracks and crevices directly below. Arthur could feel the remnants of abandoned spiderwebs clinging to his skin as she pulled him up each and every flight, and with each string he lifted a hand to brush aside what he could. 

He could hear doors slamming as they passed the second floor, faces visible for only a moment before pulling back into the shadows they had been born from. Some apartments, victims of thin walls and floors, radiated with the sounds of shouts or laughter or...other, more embarrassing noises, and with every step he took Arthur could feel himself grow more and more afraid of what was ahead. Maybe he should turn back, it wasn’t too late just yet…

“Alright, just a couple doors down from here, I swear. I know it’s a bit of a climb with a hurt like that, but we ain’t too far now, Goldy. Doing okay back there?”

She paused at the top of the stairs, letting him catch his breath before continuing onwards. Honestly, he had grown so used to the bullying that he didn’t really care about the bruises and pain and everything, but the feeling of the blood against his belly and wetting his shirt was something he wasn’t exactly fond of. This was the first time in awhile that they’d actually broken skin, and the last few times had never been anywhere near this bad. It felt sticky, warm against the cold but not in a very pleasant way. He hid his discomfort with averted eyes.

Arthur had always been a squeamish kid when it came to bodily injury, and it was all he could manage not to look at it for fear that he’d blow chunks as she brought it up. Be it a scraped knee from a bike fall or the wrath of elementary schoolers, any sight of blood reverted him to nothing more than a sniveling, sick child.

Still, he nodded. He pretended it was all alright.

She pushed through the port at the end of the hallway with ease, the hinges rusty and squeaking against her as she lifted a hand against the door, ajar as though she had left in some kind of hurry. He had spent the majority of the trip imagining all of the horrors that were likely to greet him at the end of the line, grimy messes reeking of weeks old food or smoke filled rooms billowing smog...after the trail of cigarette butts and glass shards that had lead them here, what else was he supposed to expect? He didn’t want to look, he wanted to run, run, run far away from the sight that would meet him past her outstretched hand, straight to uncle Lance and at a distance from…

A perfectly normal living room.

“Like I said, it ain’t much and all, but it sure’s somethin’. I like to think of it as home. Here, kid, lemme grab ya a seat, yeah?”

Normal may not have been the right word for it, it seemed to be a room of contradiction though it wasn’t unpleasant. As this ‘Vivi’ grabbed him one of the mismatched chairs from the designated dining area, he took a bit of a gander at his surroundings. It was dark, the lights overhead flickering and running dimly yet bright with the intense winter sun shining through the window from the outside. It was cluttered, with old books and papers scattering the tables and chairs, and yet the floor was clear and the room strangely empty. No paintings or art, nothing but the bare necessities. Over all else, it seemed...quiet.

She was leaned over one of those mini fridges, the gentle clinking of glass bottles like some strange music as she pulled one from the cold. Gesturing him towards the kitchen table, she helped him settle into one of the chairs with a glass in her hand which she passed to him, full of liquid gold and smelling strongly and sharply of whatever had been in the hallways. Under her arm, she carried a small white case which she set on the table and opened with care. All throughout, her brows were knotted in concentration.

“Y’see, my ol’ friend Josie taught me some tricks ‘bout helpin’ out ‘round here. Drink that there, it’ll make that hurt go’way like magic” she smiled over at him, something shimmering and silver clasped between her forefinger and thumb, “then i’ll take care the rest, ‘kay kid? Just relax is all I need you to do, aight?”

He did not relax, not at all. Arthur could feel his hands shaking against the fake glass in his hand, fingers rattling and sloshing the drink back and forth. She waited patiently, her eyes trailed on him as she waited, waited. Was she trying to poison him? What even was this stuff? It looked kind of like the stuff Lance drank sometimes, the stuff that he told Arthur to never, ever drink…

She placed a hand against his, and he looked up into her bright, shining blue eyes, gems glistening with flashes of hopeful light. Somehow, she was so warm where he was still cold, and the contrast of her warmth and light against the dark of the room and the chill of the glass against his hands was soothing. He inhaled, sharply.

“Look, I know it’s scary an’ all, but you can trust me, Goldy. I ain’t tryin’ ta hurt ya, I just wanna help is all. I swear it, cross my heart and all that shit.”

She traced a finger across her chest, an x, slow and deliberate. Never once did she drop his gaze, and for the first time in his life he found himself holding hers. There was something about this girl, something different, something mystical…

He brought whatever was in the glass to his lips, gulping it down in one swallow.

And then he choked.

“Ah, sorry buddy, I know it tastes terrible. But I swear it’ll make ya feel better! Works like a charm, ev’ry time,” she patted his back, smile still lighting her lips as she reached back to the table for the sliver of light she had left next to the white box, “An’ I’ll take care of the rest, don’t you worry, aight? Just don’t be lookin’, lookin’ makes me nervous.”

His head was swimming, his throat felt like it was on fire. He could feel the rumbling of flames in his belly as he coughed and sputtered, spitting out what he could of the medicine that hadn’t yet gone down. Dizziness, numbness, it was like he was falling, falling, falling…

Arthur hardly felt the biting of the needle into his skin, stitching him back together as he fell drunk for the first time in his life.

“Y’know, ya gotta fight back with the kids like that, right? All they’s ever gonna do is beat up on ya. Show ‘em you got punches too! Don’t matter how small those punches are, they show you got some kinda fire in ya, Goldy.” she glanced up at him from her work, gently hiccuping and staring at her as though she were some sort of wizard, “I mean, I guess I jus’ figured with your whole...fire get-up, you might have a little bit, y’know? On the inside. But on the outside is okay too, I guess. How ya feelin’?”

He mumbled something between a yes, a ‘mhmm’, and a burp. Vivi took that as a good sign.

“I’m glad to hear ya gotta voice in there somewhere. It sounds better when y’ain’t crying too. I bet you’re feelin’ a little woozy, tho, huh? Don’t worry, I’m almost done, and…” She pulled up, snipping the wire with a pair of scissors, “there you go, kid! We can take ya home and all, no problem whatsoever. Wasn’t that fast?”

When she stood up, Arthur forgot who he was. When she helped him up, he forgot everything else. He was pretty sure his entire consciousness had stayed in the chair, and all he could focus on was the heat radiating from his cheeks.

“Bit of a lightweight, yeah? Oh boy, this’ll be a long walk, huh?”

It was for Vivi. For Arthur, however, they teleported.

He had looked down at his feet, and suddenly Uncle Lance had his arms wrapped beneath him, carrying Arthur into his room and pulling the covers aside to set the boy down into his race car bed. As the sheets were pulled around him, he could see that ever present flicker of blue in his doorway. He felt the onset of a headache in the back of his brain, his stomach was full of gas that bubbled into hiccups and gentle burps, his vision was tired and blurring together fast and yet he could still make her out, curious and watchful from the outskirts of his room. She was ever-present, a being of light who seemed always nearby. She was some sort of watcher, a guardian, his own personal angel.

He could hear them whispering, Lance’s deep and rolling laughter and her fluctuating, childish voice mixing together and into his dreams. He dozed away, slowly falling victim to the pulling of a warm river carrying him downstream, toes and fingers numb and face tingling with warmth. And all the while, he could see blue eyes peering through the fog in his mind, blue eyes pulling him through thick darkness and smoke, blue eyes leading him onwards for the rest of his life. 

This kid, barely older than him and full of life, this Vivi. Somehow and in some strange way, they were intertwined. In this compromised state, he could feel it, and as he dozed off the boy characterized by his unhuman-like anxiety finally felt his muscles and mind relax.


	3. Rough and Tumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter in Vivi and Arthur's meeting arc. Lance is appalled by the state of Vivi's young and lonely existence, and Vivi begins to learn what family just might be about.

Even if the kid would wake up with a terrible hangover, at least Arthur was getting some sleep tonight, Lance figured.

He had tucked Arthur in tight as he could with water by the bedside table after the strange girl had knocked on his door, carrying his blubbering and hiccuping nephew through a moonless night. Now the night light flickered like a little flame to grant them subtle sanctuary, casting long shadows across the room. Even in this dying light Lance could make out the bruises on Arthur’s arms, the remnant of a trail of blood from nose to ear dyed into his skin, and he thanked the God he so mocked for delivering his boy from too much harm. He clenched his hands into fists, inhaling deeply as he pulled the blanket up and turned away, eyes closed. 

When he opened them, he saw his nephew’s safety waiting in the doorway, watching curiously with a tinge of worry lighting her eyes. Now, Lance had never been a religious man, but as the young girl stood with back to the hall light pouring out from around her he could swear she was something divine. For a moment he had found their predicament funny when his kin stumbled into the garage, drunk-off-his-ass and hardly coherent. But things had changed, and with thoughts still stuck on the bruises behind him, he lead her out and closed the door.

“I’m tellin’ you, Big Guy, he’s gonna be okay. Promise. I patch up kids who’ve seen worse in my sleep, no problem.” Vivi reassured Lance innocently, reaching up to pat his back with as much force as a nine year old could muster, which was a good amount for her, “He jus’ needs his sleep and rest is all, then he’s gonna be up an’ kickin’ again.”

Lance eyed her, starting down the hall with the young girl by his side. She was chubby and disheveled with bags under her eyes and a walk that commanded the room, short in stature for her age but at least six feet in personality. Her poorly dyed hair stuck out in all direction, blonde and blue with dark black roots in dire need of bleach. Lance looked away with a sigh, gesturing for the girl to sit as he lumbered his way to the kitchen.

“I gotta lot of questions for you, kid. Sit.”

She paused before taking her seat as though she were debating whether or not she should argue, but with a tiny breath she finally took a seat at the table. Eyes following the man whose home she had infiltrated, she peered into the kitchen as he pulled a tupperware from the fridge and tossed it into the microwave.

“I didn’t mean to get ‘im this this silly, sir. I gave ‘im as much as I always give, promise.”

“You ain’t in trouble. Don’t worry about Arthur now.” Lance came back to the table, setting the leftovers in front of her--some kind of red meat and some heated veggies, the frozen kind, “I’m worrying ‘bout you now, kid.”

Her eyes lit up as she was offered the meal, but she held herself back with a bit of a wiggle as she returned her gaze to Lance, “Arthur?” 

“Yeah, my nephew. Go on now, eat.”

Vivi started quickly, gulping down the food as if it were air and she a drowning victim. She basically inhaled it, not even touching her fork and knife and instead grabbing it with her hands and teeth. Lance tried his best not to stare too much, but never had he seen anyone eat like that.

“You gotta name, kid?”

Her mouth was wholly full, and so she hurried to swallow the bite she had taken with a bit of trouble, “Vivienne,” she managed before taking another quick bite, smaller this time, “but I go by Vivi, I don’t like Vivienne too much. The others call me Rat sometimes, but I ain’t too fond of that one neither.”

“The others?”

“Yeah, gang kids and such.” She popped a finger into her mouth, sucking it clean as she finished up the meat she’d been offered and poked at the veggies, “I don’t get caught up in all that nonsense ‘cause I patch them up good. Both sides, not just one, so they don’t bother me none. What’s this stuff?”

Lance’s brow furrowed, “Kid, are you telling me you’re part of a gang?”

“No, I’m tellin’ you I ain’t. I just heal ‘em right up and they leave me alone and buy me groceries. Now, is this like pasta or somethin’?”

He glanced at her plate as his head found its way to his hand, “That’s a lima bean,” his eyes had grown wide despite the consternation settled on his forehead, “Where are your parents, Vivi?”

Just as she went to lift the lima bean to her mouth, she stopped. Taking a moment to breathe, Lance watched her shrink ever so slightly. Her big, blue eyes fell just as her hand did, and as she inhaled quickly he could feel the weight in her breath.

“Y’know, I’ve never really known myself. Mama ain’t ever been around and Papa is in an’ out all the time. I see him a couple times a month, maybe,” she bit her lip, turning away, “Had me a nice ol’ lady named Josie, since I was a baby. She taught me howta make people feel better.”

“And where is she now?”

She didn’t speak, but by the tears he could see welling in her eyes he could take a guess.

“Fuckin’ hell, kid. You’re coming here and telling me you’re living by yourself in the worst neighborhood in Texas?” she turned her head to the side at his voice, only confirming his worried, “For how long? You’re hardly even a baby!”

“Josie’s been gone only a month, sir. It’s only a month, and the other kids been treatin’ me right and well.” She tried a smile, but there was something deep inside of it that didn’t quite shake as she lifted her cheeks, “Don’t ya worry ‘bout ol’ Vivi here, I always come out jus’ fine, I promise.”

Lance couldn’t even begin to speak, it was as if his throat were jammed with a mix of pity and fear. After all this time of worrying for his nephew, this spectacular gift had somehow stumbled its way onto his doorstep wrapped in loneliness and abandonment instead of paper. Hungry, battered, and yet she was still full of light. 

But in the light he could feel it, he could see it on her face. He may not have been the best parent the world could’ve made, but he knew children weren’t supposed to be raised in solitude. And, despite his incapabilities, he had to act somehow.

She had saved his kin. Maybe, there was something he could do for her.

“Listen here, kid, you may not see just how bad you’ve got it, but I do. Now, I would have to be some kind of heartless sack of shit to send you back out there without even offering a little bit of help, and even if I ain’t the greatest I still do got some kindness in me,” He leaned his elbows on the table, looking at her with brow furrowed sternly, “We ain’t got much here, but I do got a spare mattress in the office and an extra place at my table. You’re welcome to it whenever you want, if you get lonely or don’t feel safe or just damn well feel like it.”

“But, sir-”

“Now, I ain’t saying you gotta! You’ve got your own life set up and I wouldn’t want to disrupt that if that’s really what you love,” he glanced down towards Arthur’s room, mind wandering back to the little one he was so suddenly expected to protect, despite his mourning, “but I know it’s tough doing it all by yourself, so you got another option if you so choose. I only ask one thing for rent.”

There was an imprint of a smile on her cheeks again, even if the tears hadn’t yet been chased away, “What’s the rent, Bubba?” She sniffled gently, letting her aching heart give way to a little giggle as she swiped at her cheek. Through the rough stubble and hardened face, he let just a little bit of a grin peak through as well.

“Just keep an eye out for my boy. You don’t gotta be friends, and you don’t gotta always do it like you did today, but he needs a guardian angel to keep him safe when I ain’t around. He don’t talk to just about anybody, so sticking up for himself gets to be a little troublesome” Lance offered his hand out to her from across the table, “Sound like a deal, kid?”

Her eyes were wide and her smile wider as she took his calloused hand in her own tiny, dirty ones, “You got y’self a deal, sir.”

Standing up, he circled around the table to place the hand she had shaken on her shoulder as he picked up her empty plate, “Uncle Lance is fine. You want seconds? And are you staying or am I driving you back home, kid?”

“More o’ those little lime beans, please!” Vivi wiggled a little in her seat, bashful, “An’ I think I’m stayin’.”


End file.
